Take her with me
1379 Words
Brandon went into his room, closing the door with a loud thud.
He was obviously worked up by Marissa’s presence.
His dislike for Rose grew deeper. She knew better than to cross certain boundaries—yet she always did. She knew exactly how to provoke him, exactly how to push his buttons until rage took over.
He clicked his tongue in sharp disapproval and headed down to the cellar.
Without hesitation, he took out a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a full glass, and drank it in one go.
He prayed Marissa would be out of the building by the time he stepped back upstairs—unless she wished to die.
Oh, it would be such a pleasure serving his mother the perfect Christmas gift.
A smirk curved his lips, but it didn’t last long.
His thoughts drifted to the new girl.
Annabelle.
He had already vowed to tame her—especially now that his mother didn’t like her.
It would all work in his favor.
He dropped the empty glass on the cellar stand, moved back to his room, stripped off his clothes, and entered the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the space.
Annabelle
Annabelle sat alone in her room, feeling deeply uncomfortable.
She couldn’t stop thinking that everything happening might be because of her. It hadn’t even been up to a week since she arrived, and already things were going south.
She hated the feeling—the feeling that chaos followed her wherever she went.
She wondered if things had always been like this in this family… or if her presence had changed everything.
With a sigh, she removed her clothes and wrapped herself in a towel, preparing to enter the bathroom.
That was when the door barged open.
Rose stormed in, fury blazing in her eyes.
The wench had not only taken her son’s attention away from her—the entire family now seemed to support her.
Rose moved straight toward Annabelle and landed her full right hand across Annabelle’s cheek.
Slap!
Annabelle gasped.
She had expected many things—but not this.
Not this woman laying her filthy hand on her.
She looked up at Aunt Rose, but there was no remorse on her face—only anger and hatred.
“Now listen to me,” Rose snapped. “You are not going to fly in from wherever you came from and snatch my son and my whole family away just because of your stupid innocent face!”
“My son is mine,” she continued, voice rising. “I have every right to choose who he ends up with—and it will definitely not be a loser like you!”
Annabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief.
This woman had completely lost her mind.
And all this… because of her son—who might not even share the same views.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aunt Rose,” Annabelle said shakily. “And that does not warrant you slapping me.”
Rose clutched her chest dramatically.
“Oh! Look who has the nerve to talk back in my house—a riffraff!”
“I am not a riffraff,” Annabelle snapped, her voice rising slightly. “I have a life where I come from. I work, I earn, and I can feed myself—and you too if it comes to that!”
She straightened her shoulders.
“I respect you for the position you hold here and because I’m staying in your house,” she continued, “but that does not make me less human. I came here because I needed to get away from something… but at this point, I don’t even know which is worse.”
She took a breath.
“Please, Aunt Rose. I’m sorry if you misunderstood my purpose for coming here, but let it be clear—I have nothing in mind concerning your darling son.”
Rose stood frozen, as if the air had been knocked out of her.
She had not expected that reaction—not from someone she considered a nobody.
“How dare you!” Rose screamed, raising her hand to slap Annabelle again.
But another hand caught hers mid-air.
“That’s enough.”
Aunt Clara’s voice cut through the tension.
“You’ve done enough, Rose,” she said coldly, dropping her hand. “Try to control your madness. It’s becoming alarming.”
Rose glared at her, huffed angrily, and stormed out of the room.
Aunt Clara moved closer to Annabelle, who sat on the bed with tears brimming in her eyes—refusing to let them fall.
“I know how you feel,” Clara said softly. “Rose can be a handful. She becomes irrational whenever it comes to her son.”
Annabelle stayed silent for a moment before finally speaking.
“Is there something I need to know… or should I stay away from your home?”
“No, no,” Clara said quickly. “Don’t give her that satisfaction. She’s just… like that. And I’m sorry about the slap—I overheard everything.”
“Thank you,” Annabelle whispered, lowering her head.
“You should come down for dinner,” Aunt Clara said, standing up.
“I—um… can I eat here?” Annabelle blurted out.
She knew the family rule—everyone eats together—but tonight felt impossible.
Aunt Clara gave her a knowing look.
“You know Grandma Jojo won’t agree—even if Pa agrees.”
“Okay,” Annabelle sighed. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Be quick,” Clara said, then left.
Annabelle stared at herself in the mirror.
She wondered what Brandon could possibly see in her—what about her attracted his attention.
Nothing.
She pressed her lips together.
As much as she hated to admit it, Brandon was attractive—but far out of her league.
His mother was right.
Women like Marissa belonged with men like him.
Shaking those thoughts away, she entered the bathroom, and the water began to rush.
Outside
Aunt Clara stood in the hallway, phone pressed to her ear.
The call was picked up immediately.
“Hello, Aunt Clara,” Brandon’s voice came through.
She cleared her throat and explained everything.
She waited for a response.
But the line went dead.
He had ended the call without a word.
She sighed and headed downstairs.
The dining table was already filled with food. Annabelle sat quietly in her seat, head low, chewing slowly.
“Clara, why do you look upset?” Grandma Jojo asked.
Clara ignored her, her eyes fixed on Rose—who sat proudly, chin lifted.
“Maybe you should ask your daughter-in-law,” Clara said finally.
Grandma Jojo’s eyes snapped toward Rose, who shifted uncomfortably.
“What?” Rose asked, feigning innocence.
“What, Rose?” Clara snapped. “You slapped our guest for selfish reasons that make no sense!”
“What?!” Laura rushed toward Annabelle. “She slapped you?! Why would you—”
“There’s no need for that.”
A deep voice stopped everyone cold.
They turned toward the door.
The towering figure and piercing gaze said it all.
Brandon.
Grandma Jojo looked at Clara, who shrugged with a small smile.
“She’s coming with me,” Brandon said calmly.
“What?!” everyone gasped.
Clara stared at him in shock.
Brandon’s eyes locked on Annabelle.
“You can keep your welcome,” he continued. “She’s coming with me to enjoy her holiday.”
“No—wait—” Laura tried to intervene.
Brandon shot her a glare.
He walked toward Annabelle and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.
“Wait—I—”
“You have no choice here, Ann.”
Rose heard it clearly.
“No, she’s not going with you!”
“And who are you to demand that?” Brandon shot back.
“I’m your mother!”
He ignored her.
“My clothes,” Annabelle whispered.
Laura sent her a wounded glare.
She hated this.
“Don’t bother,” Brandon said. “You’ll get new ones.”
And with that, he walked out—Annabelle in tow—leaving the entire family frozen in shock.
- Writer
